It was dark. It was cold. Sandra woke with a start and stood up suddenly. She stared wide eyed at the person in front of her, bathed in the lights inside the apartment. He was – it was a he – scruffy, slightly unshaven, perhaps a little cock-eyed. Or maybe she was. He certainly wasn’t very focussed. What was more inconsiderate was the way he was getting less focussed. Why was he doing that? Stop it. Now you’re making it get darker. Oh, now I can’t see anything. It’s all dark and the wind is blowing in my hair, oh wait I’m floating, I’m on a cloud, I am a cloud, I look like fairy floss and I taste like expensive cheese, soft cheese, cheese so soft you can lie down in it like well-made mattress, ignore the pickle he’s just after attention, curl up with the cheese and relaaaaaaxxxxxxxx.
She opened her eyes. She was on a couch. How did she get here?
“You passed out when I found you on my balcony” came the answer. She rolled onto her side, and then fell off onto the floor. They’re not kidding when they call it hardwood. It felt good though. Reassuring and awakening. Unknown hands grabbed her shoulders to help her up, and she shook them off roughly.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Felt good actually.” She creaked and ached as she crawled up and sat on the couch, rubbing her eyes. She felt exhausted. A fizzing glass was passed to her, and she took it, sniffed it, and handed it back.
“It’s aspirin”, said the voice, sitting next to her.
“So you say”, she replied, turning to look at the voice. He was familiar. Blond. Nice eyes. Hang on. “You’re that guy in 306.”
“Yeah that’s right.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“This is my apartment.”
“You live in an art studio?”
“No, I live in apartment 306. You just crawled off the floor of 306. And you’re currently sitting on the couch in apartment 306. My apartment, my floor, and, funnily enough, my couch. Hi.”
“Hi?”
“Incidently, you were also asleep on my balcony.”
“I was asleep on your balcony.”
“Yes. How did you get on my balcony?”
“How the hell did I get on your balcony?”
“I was hoping you might be able to answer that for me.”
“I.. I don’t know.”
He sighed.
“You don’t know.”
“No, I fell asleep on the other balcony. Where’s my bag?”
“Which other balcony?”
“A bag, I had a handbag. Small, blue thing – you know, I left it here before.”
“Yes you did. Which other balcony?”
“I had it with me. It was with me when I fell asleep”
“Why are you sleeping on balconies?”
“I don’t, I fell asleep, I was exhausted. I’d found… oh shit.” She stood up. “Sebastian. What time is it?”
“Seven? Seven thirty?”
“Shit. Shit shit shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Where’s is my bag?”
“What bag?”
“I just told you which bag, it’s small, it’s blue and it means a fuck load to me.”
“I don’t know, I –“
She grabbed him by the shoulders and fixed him with a stare.
“Listen to me naked blond guy, this is really important. Have. You. Seen. My. Bag?”
Serious vibes received loud and abundantly clear.
“No. You didn’t have it when I found you.”
She bowed her head as she swallowed every ounce of explosion that threatened from within. She swallowed the anger, the frustration, the insufferable sense of injustice, and above all else, that feeling of confusion. She choked it all down with a harsh chaser of hopelessness, and held it there. If she let it go, she would be gone. Instead, she raised her head again, looking into his eyes, convincing herself to be resolute.
“Well then. Fuck.”
He recognised her frustration, he really did. He could see that she’d lost something important. But he couldn’t let it slip.
“Naked blond guy?”
She blinked.
“Uh, yeah, it’s a thing”, she lied, badly. “I call all men naked something, it’s how I define who they are. Naked 7/11 guy. Naked father. Uh, priest thing, you know. Everybody has a thing, that’s just my thing.”
“I don’t have a thing.”
“Oh, I beg to differ”, she said, and giggled to herself. In her imagination she high-fived an imaginary version of herself.
“You’re a very strange person.”
“I’m beginning to realise that. I’m trying to think of myself as a normal person dealing with very strange things.”
“Yes, well, until you start falling asleep right balcony I don’t think you can do that.”
She stood in the stranger’s apartment, looking around. He had a perfectly valid point. The real question was whether she was strange to start with, or if circumstance was making her strange. Someone who knew her before all of this would know. Someone like Liz. Liz who had probably been trying to contact her.
“Can I use your phone? I seem to have lost mine.”
He sighed, and stood up.
“What’s your name again?”
“Sandra Walker.”
“Sandra, please understand the situation I’m in. A few hours ago you talked your way into my apartment. I thought it was strange, but you kind of got away with it. Now, I come home, and I find you asleep on my balcony. Can you explain this, at all?”
She looked at him, and sighed. This was all getting a bit too much.
“Two days ago a man was murdered in 304. I found the body, and called the police from 303 because there was no phone in 304.”
He seemed a little shocked at the news.
“Murdered? When was this? Monday?”
“Yes. You didn’t know?”
“I had no idea. We don’t talk much around here, but we do see each other come and go. The guy in 304, I don’t know his name, we just saw each other coming and going. Murdered?”
“On Monday. The police didn’t speak to you? You didn’t see anything?”
“No. I wasn’t here on Monday, I was took a four day weekend. I only got back yesterday afternoon.”
“No police tape? No note, nothing?”
“Honestly, I’ve heard nothing. Are you sure?”
She paused, and actually gave that question due consideration. Was she sure? Was anything that was going on here real or was she going completely mad? Because so far nothing was adding up and it seemed to be only her experiencing it. So was it real? In the end, she didn’t know for sure. But then again, was anything real? Was Liz real? This apartment? Her feet? Beer? Was beer real? Oh God, please let beer be real. All she had to go on was her experiences, and if she didn’t trust them fully then she would be more mad than if she was actually mad. That makes sense. So was she sure that she had seen what she had seen? Absolutely.
“Absolutely”, she replied. “And if you didn’t get back till Tuesday, I have an idea why the police never spoke to you. I think someone leant on the them to drop it.”
“People can actually do that?”
“You bet. I reckon there are some people in this world who can do anything they want.”
“Who?”
“I doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”
“Oh. This is the guy in 304?”
“No, his brother. He’s dead too.”
“Jesus. How did he die?”
“Beaten to death I think. The police won’t know because they won’t find a body.”
“What did you do with it?”
She gave him a look that very, very clearly said: I’m not a dickhead. Don’t try and trick me into confessing something that I’ve not done. Furthermore, how dare you assume that I’m stupid enough to fall for such a trick. You have insulted my integrity, my intelligence, and should you do so again I will rip your head off and post it to someone who will abuse it in hideous ways, and if possible keep you alive whilst doing so.
He understood the look.
“Sorry.”
“I need to use your phone.”
He reached into his pocket and passed her his phone with the resignation of someone doing all they could to get the mad person out of their apartment.
She dialled Liz, and as expected got her voicemail. If she were in the library still, that would be why. If she’d gone home and was watching TV, that would be why. If she’d been hurt… no, that’s ridiculous. That’s too vague a connection. Was she being paranoid? Or appropriately concerned?
“Liz, it’s Sandra, I’d say call me but I’ve lost my phone. Again. And your bag. And my purse. I’m coming to meet you, if you’re at the library stay there, if you’re at home, stay there, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She passed the phone back.
“I should get going.”
“Yes, I think you probably should.”
She looked at naked blonde guy. She didn’t need to involve him.
“Look, I’m sorry about all of this. I promise I won’t bother you again, I fell into this whole mess and I really don’t want to drag someone else into it.”
He smiled. He had a nice, kind smile, you could see it in his eyes.
“I know I should offer you some help, but whatever mess you’re talking about, I don’t want to get involved either. It sounds unpleasant. Sorry.”
She smiled back. She understood.
“Right. Sorry.” She looked around for he belongings, and then remembered she was wearing them. She walked towards the front door, and he didn’t follow. She turned at the hallway, and saw him standing next to the kitchen island, watching her. “Bye” she said.
“Good luck”, he waved. She turned away and left the apartment.
Once more she found herself leaving the building with no ID, no phone, nothing. She checked her jacket pocket and felt the envelope stuffed with money. At least this time she could afford a taxi. Thankyou, Sebastian.
As she walked along the street she turned and looked down the alley between the two buildings. Something caught her eye, and she stopped. She turned and walked down the alley. On the ground, almost directly below the balcony for 304, was Liz’s handbag. She must have dropped it when she leapt between the two balconies. She opened it up, and had a look inside. The phone Sebastian gave her was still there, and still okay. Incidentally, there were no missed calls. She checked Sebastian’s phone - the screen was cracked beyond recognition. Dammit. But his wallet was still there, and Liz’s camera seemed ok too. She slung the bag over her shoulder - she had a lot of evidence, and lot of photos, and a lot to sort through. Despite her gruesome find, for the first time she felt like she was actually doing something. For the first time in three days, she felt like she was onto something.
She went up to the main road, and hailed a taxi.
Sooo glad she found her bag. I did a double fist into the air with excitement!
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